Of Colds and Dogs and Ticking Clocks
by sagdragon3002
Summary: Willow doesn’t feel good. Willow goes to the nice doctor. The nice doctor prescribes her something. Oneshot of an everyday moment.


Disclaimer: BtVS is not mine. Really, would I have to bother writing this if I did own it?

Summary: Willow doesn't feel good. Willow goes to the nice doctor. The nice doctor prescribes her a nice narcotic. Pointless one-shot.

Note: Based on real events, although I was in Buffy's predicament, not Willow's. And the dream is real, too, though a separate event in which my friend was not on any sort of medication. I'm not sure yet if this makes me feel better or worse.

* * *

Buffy trudged through the hall in UC Sunnydale, arms hanging lifelessly as she went to her dorm room. The night had been slightly hectic with vampire activity, but thankfully there were also no signs of the Initiative's interference at the moment. However, that on top of four classes (of which she only managed to attend two thanks to the research required to find Adam's latest plot) the Slayer had been drained of most her energy.

Pausing before the door to her room, Buffy cocked her head slightly. Coughing within told Buffy that Willow was in residence. Willow had been battling a terrible cold for the last two weeks and was doing what she could to get rid of it—including listening to Xander's outrageous cures. She was supposed to have gone to the doctor, which Buffy winced in sympathy for the redhead (her fears of hospitals and doctors still hadn't been completely assuaged when she killed Der Kindestod junior year).

Entering, Buffy immediately spotted Willow at her laptop. "Hey. You went to the doctor?"

Willow sniffled and spoke with a slightly congested voice, "Yeah. But they were so mean! Like, meaner than meanest. They made me wear this icky mask and kept asking me if I really belonged to Group Health even when I showed my card."

"Poor Willow. So, what's the verdict? Or . . . or that other word that means what's up in doctor language?"

"I need to take this before I go to bed," Willow held up a prescription bottle. "Hycodan. She told me not to drive or operate heavy machinery or . . . well, not do anything period after taking one."

Buffy blinked. "Sounds . . . druggy."

"Yeah. But, hey, she's a doctor, right?" Willow said, looking anxious. "She should know what she's doing, right?"

"Right," Buffy nodded firmly. "So, tonight, you'll go ahead and take one and tomorrow you'll miraculously feel . . . less sick. No worries."

* * *

After another brief patrol of the campus, Buffy and Willow turned in. Eyeing the pill with some consternation, Willow sighed and gulped the pill down with some diet Dr. Pepper.

As she climbed into bed, Buffy could only be glad for the soft feel of blankets and sheets. Her senses went on alert, however, as Willow paused, looking intently at a tall dresser.

"Willow? What's up?" Buffy asked.

"There's a dog up there," Willow said seriously.

Slowly, Buffy followed Willow's gaze. The dresser remained wooden, closed, and devoid of any dogs. "Willow . . . there aren't any dogs."

"I- I think I'm hallucinating," Willow blinked, sinking into the bed. "But . . . there is definitely a dog there."

"O . . . kay," Buffy laid back, drawing the blankets up to her chest and eyeing Willow worriedly. "Is . . . the dog _doing_ anything?"

"No, it's just sitting there," Willow copied Buffy, eyes focused on the dresser. "Just . . . just stay there. Good dog."

"Willow," Buffy said, "you're talking to a hallucination."

"That's bad, huh?" Willow curled into her blankets, but still didn't take her eyes away. "Okay, I'm gonna sleep. Sleep will get me through this."

The room was silent. Suddenly Willow jerked, sitting upright. "The dog moved."

Buffy's eyes flickered sleepily. "Oh?"

"I never took my eyes off it," Willow now stared at Buffy's bare desk, pointing at the dresser. "It was there one moment but now it's there,"

"Okay, Willow. The dog moved. As long as it doesn't attack anyone, I'm good with the dog."

"It better not attack anyone, or I'm gonna stick it full of freshly sharpened pencils," Willow muttered, turning to her side and faced the wall. "Alright, I'm gonna just turn and sleep and look at the clock instead of the dog."

Buffy nearly murmured her consent when she paused, lifting her head up slightly.

Willow was quick on the uptake. "There's no clock here, is there?"

"No, Willow."

"Okay. I'm just gonna go to sleep. G'night, Buffy."

"G'night, Willow." As Buffy resettled herself, she thought, _Maybe I'll talk to Giles tomorrow and see if there's any demons running around that make girls hallucinate. Yeah, and then they hypnotize with nonexistent clocks and attack with imaginary dogs—_

Buffy and Willow slept, the former with dreams of the First Slayer and (oddly enough) a man advertising cheese. The latter slept with dreams of babies with Buffy's, Xander's, and Giles' heads on them that fell safely to the rocks below a great mansion belonging to her transgender husband.

* * *

No real update, just minor editing and an extra bit of A/N at the top to clarify the dream sequence Willow had. Although, I'm not sure how clear it ended up being... 


End file.
